


fucking goddammit just shut up

by jimatoshi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Autistic Character, Misophonia, rated t for casual mentions of violence & also language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 06:56:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6744052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jimatoshi/pseuds/jimatoshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsukishima had a reputation: he didn't cry. Not when they won, not when they lost, not even when Kiyoko made them a banner. So how was it that he was here, in the floor of Yamaguchi's room, crying because of a tiny little noise?</p>
            </blockquote>





	fucking goddammit just shut up

Tsukishima had never been the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve; it didn't come naturally, and honestly it was a little annoying. Why yell or cry about something when you could just ignore it? Things like emotions, or rude comments, or even just terrible jokes were much more easily ignored than retaliated, and a few carefully placed snide remarks could generally keep anything more at bay. The only things Tsukishima could not ignore, however, were sounds. Sure, he had methods for dealing with them: headphones, fidgets, leaving; but ignoring noises was impossible. It's not like he spent every living moment cringing at every single noise... some days he barely even noticed. Others... well, others it felt like he did.

Today was one of those "other" days, when he couldn't focus in class because not ripping his eyes out required his full attention. (He always thought it was odd that the sounds hurt his eyes instead of his ears.) Today, actually, was worse. He picked at scabs until they bled and then took to lightly gnawing his fingers so that at least he wouldn't make a mess. Yamaguchi tried to smack his hands away from his face, but his efforts were as futile as keeping a toddler from toddling, and Tsukishima was a very determined toddler.

As soon as lunch break hit, so did Tsukishima's headphones around his ears. Yamaguchi put band-aids on Tsukki's arms where he had picked, and where he would pick next if given the chance, and even forced him to put one on his ankle where an old scab provided perfect grounds for picking, albeit inconvenient. While Yamaguchi couldn't fix the sounds, he could help Tsukki prevent later pain and possible infection, so while Tsukki mourned the loss of a distraction he also silently thanked Yamaguchi for being his self-restraint.

As class began, Tsukishima once again returned to the world of sounds. Not planned, choreographed music like that from his headphones, but blaring, unmetered, illogical noise. Without the distraction of his scabs, Tsukishima began lightly gnawing on his fingers--not his nails, but his fingers. Not hard enough to bruise or break skin, but hard enough to lave red marks and the imprint of pain--planned pain, self-inflicted, able to be stopped at any time. Planned.

By the time school was out, Tsukishima's hands were so red you couldn't tell where one set of bite marks ended and the next began, but it was his head that was killing him.

Practice was... honestly, a blur. Everything was slightly too fast, and he could tell his movements were off, but his teammates were cutting him some slack... a bit too much, actually; Yamaguchi had probably told them something unnecessary, which made him mad. Mad at his teammates for their pity, mad at Yamaguchi for telling them, but mostly mad at himself for how fucking pathetic he was that he couldn't play a sport he's been playing for years. He wanted to punch himself, but now wasn't the time.

Yamaguchi seemed determined to make sure that time never came, dragging Tsukki over to his house so that Tsukki could help him with the math lesson, even though they both knew he wasn't there for the lesson today. So Yamaguchi pulled Tsukishima by his wrist, whether to make sure he didn't leave or to keep it from his mouth neither of them knew, but for once the pressure wasn't bad, so Tsukki didn't shake him off as they walked.

Yamaguchi's house: the oasis of silence. Nobody was home yet, so Tsukishima took of his headphones along with his shoes as he entered the house. He wasted no time in heading to Yamaguchi's room while the other stopped by the kitchen to fetch drinks. As he settled into his usual space in the nook between the desk and the bed, it happened. A fly; a poor, tiny, confused fly could absolutely _not_  find its way out from between the blinds and the window and was making the most incessant buzzing. Had it been slightly less irritating or if he had had a slightly better day, he might've stood up and ripped the blinds from the window or just crushed the little beast, but, as it was, that tiniest of noises, ever so grating, took all of his energy so that even sitting up was an ordeal, and so he collapsed.

Crying in these situations was not unheard of for Tsukishima. While crying usually only made the headache worse and the sounds louder, sometimes that was the most promising choice among a dazzling stock of self-harm and property damage. What was not usual about this situation was his location: in the middle of his best friend's room, with said friend quickly approaching. And so he stole back his energy from the fly in a final attempt to remain at least partly together, at least sorda okay, but it was too late.

"Have you been crying?"

"It... it was loud." He stammered. It wasn't a yes, but at the same time it was.

**Author's Note:**

> I have more written, but this is the best stopping point at the moment, so... here it is. Feedback would be greatly appreciated & if you wanna talk trans/autistic headcanons hmu @ jima-toshi.tumblr.com.


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